


HoloAfterLive: Rise of Usada Kensetsu

by wrsw



Series: HoloAfterLive [3]
Category: Hololive, Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: Afterlife, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrsw/pseuds/wrsw
Summary: A totally legit and not-at-all shady construction company enters the afterlife financial market.The mechas are totally used only for construction purposes, nothing suspicious to see here.
Series: HoloAfterLive [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191593
Comments: 19
Kudos: 48
Collections: HoloAfterLive





	1. Entering the Market

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic, in a rather dramatic inverse to my other on-going HoloAfterLive fic, is a very silly comedy romp with a concentrated effort to shoot down any seriousness that gets too close. (1)
> 
> Well, that's not 100% true; there's some actual plot in here, but for the most part this isn't going to take itself too seriously; there will be nothing overly dark in this fic; this ain't the underworld.

Three figures sat around a table; Botan was out doing whatever it was she did for the company; to be honest, no one was really sure what she did, aside from the fact that somehow she made money, so they weren’t about to argue with it. It did, however, raise a problem.

Moona Hoshinova, director of operations at the newly formed Usada Kensetsu, spoke, addressing the CEO of the newly formed company: Usada Pekora.

“Shachou, I have some bad news.”

Sakura Miko, head of products, was impressed at Moona’s ability to actually get Pekora to listen to her about things going wrong. Sure, Miko also had that ability, but Moona had comparatively little time to learn it, and yet if Moona said there was an issue, Pekora would immediately drop what she was doing and address the problem.

“Yes?”

“The bad news is that we have the potential to be successful enough for the market to pay attention to us.”

Pekora seemed confused.

“Don’t we want to be highly visible?”

Moona sighed.

“The issue is, so far all of our money comes from under-the-table dealings; the instant that real financial regulators look at us we’re in a lot of trouble if we can't come up with an excuse for how we’re actually making money. Despite living in a literal world of make-believe apparently actually made-up money really does _not_ fly around here.”

Pekora looked down at the table.

“Any progress on the Pekodam? We could just move.”

“Not yet, I’m afraid. On the other hand, I recall that you have like a zillion random personal projects you keep starting in your workshop - maybe you’ve got a business-worthy blueprint or two. Maybe the rabbit robots? I’m not sure what those actually do.”

Pekora smirked.

“I was getting tired of having to hand-build simple projects, so I decided to spend my time on building some robots in my likeness to do simple construction tasks for me so I don’t have to dirty my own hands. I call it the Peko-bot.” (2)

Moona paused.

“That’s...kind of genius. If you actually have bots that can do a lot of simple menial construction tasks, then I think we can actually make the peko-bot profitable in a stable manner instead of relying on no one looking too hard; at least if you haven’t added anything too ridiculous to them.”

“Relax, I have Miko-senpai approve every feature I add to them.”

She turned her head to the shrine maiden.

“You did approve the last build I sent you, right?”

Miko laughed.

“Of course I did! The little mecha-rabbits are great.”

“Alright, let’s go public with the peko-bots. Do we have any demos ready?”

Miko listed off what she remembered of the document concerning the functionality of the bots.

“Let’s see...we’ve got the digging demos - arguably that’s what they’re the best at - the mobility demos, the posing demos, the explosion demo, and the woodwork demo. Hmmmm, I can’t remember - did we have a flight demo?”

Pekora replied, remembering the build process.

“Nah, that’ll be in the expansion when we have the accessories ready, which will include the jetpack, alongside the harpoon and the welding torch. We’re keeping it simple for the initial release.”

In most companies, there would likely be someone who would've pointed out some of these features were not something you would want on a construction robot. And perhaps, even with just a few extra hololive members, one would’ve pointed out that Sakura Miko approving of your bots did not necessarily mean they were something you would want to put out on the market.

Usada Kensetsu was not most companies, a fact that the afterlife market was about to learn.

* * *

_Introducing a Usada Kensetsu creation: The Usada Pekora-model construction robot, A. K. A. The Peko-bot™! Modeled off of the CEO herself, these rabbit-robots are both versatile AND adorable! As the first released model, they have a suite of skills including but not limited to: Adorable peko-speech, competent and versatile mining for when you don’t want to get your hands dirty yourself, basic construction abilities, the ability to make cute poses and to give basic directions to direct traffic, versatile usage of trinitrotoluene, surprisingly effective mobility, and most importantly: no sense of self-preservation whatsoever!_

_Don’t wait! Pre-order the peko-bot™ for your over-engineered construction projects today!_

_(Some terms and conditions may apply. Read the included manual for functionality. Warranty does not cover the following: water damage, falling from excessive heights, use of explosives, or being an idiot. Usada Kensetsu is not criminally liable for any zoning law violations created by negligent use of peko-bot™. Usada Kensetsu is not criminally liable for injuries resulting from improper use of peko-bot™ explosive functionality. Do not submerge the peko-bot™ in water. Peko-bot v1.0 has not been tested for high velocity usage and may fail at high speeds. Do not taunt peko-bot™.)_

* * *

Moona had to admit two things.

The first was that Pekora was an awful businesswoman. Well, that wasn’t entirely inaccurate; she could get money from people, but she was terrible at getting money from people in ways in official channels that wouldn’t become a nightmare if authorities looked at them too hard.

The second was that she was a _very_ competent engineer, and with the lack of restrictions that the afterlife had, the blueprints for the peko-bots were _wild._ Moona had to admit she was very impressed at the peko-bot, and the functionality was still a work in progress; Pekora’s planned demonstration would be to have the bots, commanded entirely remotely with no human present on-site, construct a fully structurally sound bridge across a small river.

The public release model wasn’t _quite_ at that level yet where it could actually do that, but Moona had to admit that, if somehow the demonstration worked, they’d probably be rich beyond their wildest dreams; after all, virtually every other construction company around would want these things at that point. And, of course, there’s the obvious benefit where Usada Kensetsu could use the bots themselves to help with their own projects.

Perhaps she should feel bad at how many different clauses voided the warranty on the thing, but on the other hand, the one problem with the Peko-bot is that it had had no self-preservation routines; if they had to pay out for every single claim they’d stop being profitable very rapidly. Moona didn’t claim to understand the schematics herself, but according to Pekora, making the peko-bots better at not exploding was too expensive.

Why that was more expensive than accessorizing them with progressively more ridiculous tools, Moona had no idea, but she had chosen to have faith in Pekora’s judgement in that matter.

* * *

_One week later_

The demo was live. Pekora had set up the local network to connect the peko-bot squads to her remotely given commands, and it was time to go live. There were ten bots, split into two groups of five each, one on each side of the small river. It wasn’t large, and ten bots was probably overkill for the task, but both Moona and Miko insisted that Pekora have a few spares.

In retrospect, that was possibly a mistake; now Pekora knew she had a few peko-bots she could afford to lose, which meant she would definitely lose a couple.

Many cameras were placed on the site; for safety reasons, as this was as much a beta test as it was a demonstration of the peko-bot functionality, the only people on-site were a few reporters who were catching it live for broadcast purposes.

The demonstration started. Moona held her breath, as did Miko.

Pekora grinned, and started the routine. There were ten peko-bots connected to the network, all awaiting commands.

A series of robotic “Peko!” exclamations signaled it was time to start.

The first commands were given out; on one side of the river, a pair of the peko-bots pulled out shovels, and started digging the foundation for one side of the bridge. The other side was rockier; which would be why the peko-bot in the position across from the digging bot took out a pickaxe instead, which was slammed down into the opposing rock with force; the rock didn’t stand a chance, splitting into two.

Pekora’s UI updated with all of the information. She mostly didn’t pay attention to it; it existed mostly because of Miko and Moona’s insistence on making sure the data was there in case they needed to reference the logs.

_Peko-bot #1 update: Begin digging operation._

_Peko-bot #2 update: Begin digging operation._

_Peko-bot #6 update: Begin mining operation._

The mining bot continued to the next rock, where it made a rather fatal mistake: it didn’t check whether or not the next rock had ground below it before striking it with its pickaxe.

The peko-bot, suddenly without ground below it, fell forward into the river.

It’s last words were a rather comically alarmed “Oh no peko!” before being cut off by crashing into the water. The electronics fizzled due to immediately short-circuiting; on Pekora’s end, the network UI told her that one bot had ceased functionality and only nine were now operational.

_Peko-bot #6 update: Critical circuitry failure due to water damage._

The rocks were cleared, however, and now both foundations had been laid. The remaining nine bots could construct the bridge without too many issues, in theory.

The bridge was small enough that, to keep things simple, the bridge itself was more or less a pair of long wooden platforms spanning the length of the bridge. It was _just_ long enough that it wouldn’t be entirely structurally safe if it was just the platform itself; to make this work properly, the peko-bots would need to assemble a few support beams underneath. A pair of peko-bots started cutting wooden planks with circular saws to form four support beams; two on each side.

_Peko-bot #3 update: Begin woodcutting operation._

_Peko-bot #8 update: Begin woodcutting operation._

_Peko-bot #3 update: Support beams assembled, ready for placement._

_Peko-bot #8 update: Support beams assembled, ready for placement._

Pekora grinned, and issued commands to Peko-bots #2, #4, #7 and #9 to move all four support beams into place.

_Peko-bot #2 update: Begin building operation._

_Peko-bot #4 update: Begin building operation._

_Peko-bot #7 update: Begin building operation._

_Peko-bot #9 update: Begin building operation._

_Peko-bot #2 update: Support beam placed._

_Peko-bot #4 update: Support beam placed._

_Peko-bot #7 update: Support beam placed._

_Peko-bot #9 update: Support beam placed._

Pekora gave the command to the Peko-bots to place the main platform, connecting to the support beams and finishing the wooden bridge structure itself.

_Network update: main bridge finished. Only requires fastening._

Peko-bots #5 and #10 walked out on the bridge, armed with screws and drills. They screwed the main platform to the support beams underneath, finishing the structure.

All four members of Usada Kensetsu, watching the live footage, breathed a sigh of relief. The demonstration went well, as Pekora only lost a single peko-bot, which was a lot better than they expected her to do.

Pekora grinned from her end of the interface. “Let’s go peko!”

Giving the commands, peko-bots #5 and #10 high-fived each other, giving an excited shout in a synthetic voice.

“Let’s go peko!”

However, Pekora hadn’t checked their position before issuing the command. Peko-bot #5 accidentally misplaced its foot; tripping and then falling off the newly-constructed bridge into the water below.

“Save me peko!”

Despite the request, it was too late; peko-bot’s circuitry fizzled and ceased functionality upon contact with the water.

_Peko-bot #5 update: Critical circuitry failure due to water damage._

Pekora laughed; that was admittedly a pretty funny way to lose a peko-bot; killed by a risky high-five.

Moona and Miko, however, cringed; the demonstration was perhaps a little _too_ honest about the survival rates of the peko-bots. And Pekora hadn’t even tried out any of the TNT handling functions in this demonstration, a fact that they were glad for; that would’ve probably cut the peko-bot survival rate in half.

Still, the demonstration was successful, so they had a foot in the door as far as their company was concerned.

* * *

_Two weeks later_

“Hey Moona! How are we doing?”

“We have a lot of investors. The good news is, we’re not in trouble for shady finances, because people are going crazy for these things. We might need to add another couple of private peko-bots to the assembly line to keep up with demand when we actually launch the thing.”

One benefit to being the product owner was that you could make changes to the personal versions you had without having to give away company secrets that quickly. In this case, the private Pekora-use-only model peko-bot had a few differences from the public model; the primary one being that it was capable of automating the construction of more public-model peko-bots. This feature was removed from all public models; both Pekora and Moona wanted to make sure that only their company could legitimately construct the things.

Well, that and making a bot that was entirely capable of self-replication felt like a robot apocalypse waiting to happen. While Moona figured that the angels would interfere and stop something like that from happening, that would also probably get Usada Kensetsu’s members thrown into the underworld if they nearly caused an apocalypse in the afterlife, which Moona preferred to avoid.

This was also why Moona never argued about the otherwise strange choice to make the robots have no self-preservation routine whatsoever. If the peko-bots were too dumb to stay alive, they were probably too dumb to rebel against their creators very effectively.

Usada Kensetsu was looking promising. All that was left was the product launch. Moona’s faith in Pekora, apparently, was well-placed.

* * *

_Three weeks later_

By the time that the next Usada Kensetsu board meeting came around, Moona Hoshinova had regretted placing her faith in Pekora.

Or, more accurately, she had learned that Sakura Miko was not, by herself, a very good judge of acceptable product standards.

“Well, we have good news, bad news, morbidly fascinating news, and, uh, hilariously bad news. First, the good: these things are selling like crazy.”

Moona sighed.

“Second, the bad: we’re starting to get complaints about how easily these things break. Also, there’s a few claims that the bots can explode. Miko, I don’t want to make light of your quality assurance department considering you’re the entire department, but isn’t this something you want to check for?”

Miko smiled.

“They only have the most elite of explosions. Look, if those customers activated the sequence to self-destruct the bots, I honestly don’t know what they expected!”

She made this claim cheerfully, as if this was an entirely normal response, and as if a self-destruct mechanism was an entirely ordinary feature of a construction bot.

Moon sighed again. Pekora hadn’t told her about that. She supposed it was her fault; she should’ve looked for it, given who owned the product.

“Third, the morbidly fascinating: a lot of our clients don’t consider our bot failure rates to be an entirely bad thing. I’m not entirely sure _why,_ but for the most part few of our clients feel ripped off except for the fact that many of them were disappointed to learn that the warranty doesn’t cover exploding. In fact, it seems to be that most of our clients _expect_ the bots to meet rather destructive fates, which says, um, weird things about our clientele.

“Which kind of brings me to the hilariously bad news: we’re a hit, but not exactly among construction companies. Weirdly enough, we’re actually most popular among retail investors. People seem to be calling these ‘idol bots’ which is amazing when you consider they have no capacity whatsoever for idol activities aside from being cute rabbit girl robots, unless Pekora also added that randomly in without telling me.”

Miko paused in thought.

“I’m pretty sure performance mode was in the peko-bot 2.0 roadmap. Correct me if I’m wrong, though.”

Pekora nodded.

“Miko-senpai’s right. I’m trying to figure out how to restrict motions so it doesn’t fall off of small stages peko.”

Moona facepalmed. By the time the model 2.0 peko-bot launched, there would be no hope of even claiming that these things were meant purely for construction. It was already nearly impossible, but at least the demonstrations had been focused in the right field.

And that was how Usada Kensetsu started: not with a big construction project, but with a bunch of construction robots that no one was actually using for construction.

Deciding that was as good a place as any to call it, Pekora and Moona decided to call it a day at that point. There wasn’t really much else to discuss.

Miko, however, decided to go down to the workshop.

* * *

The building that Usada Kensetsu had acquired was fairly unassuming; but it had one thing that made it very good for the new company, which was a rather large basement area.

The underground workshop - Pekora’s property, for the most part - was a gigantic mess; something that Miko was grateful for, because it meant she could create her secret project in peace and quiet. She walked up to the secret door (3) and entered the access code for it.

Behind it was a robot. This robot, however, was special; the specifications for it were far, _far_ more advanced than the peko-bots. How Miko remembered them, she wasn’t entirely sure; maybe there was some godly blessing she received. She was glad for that fact; the specifications were incredibly complicated. It made sense, really.

After all, this robot needed to house a soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Which means, once again, we’re doing the comedy footnotes once again - starting, yes, with a footnote in the chapter notes, which, well, sets up how silly this will get.
> 
> (2) For those of you on the r/hololive subreddit, just picture the fanart of pekofy_bot, which is actually a real bot on the subreddit (and yes, people have made fan art of a reddit bot, no I can't explain it either).
> 
> (3) The door was just labeled “ELITE STORAGE” and for some reason that was enough to deter anyone from trying anything.
> 
> Alas, poor Peko-bots #5 and #6. They deserved better.


	2. March of the Peko-bots, Round 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pekora marches the peko-bots North, due to a great new business opportunity (and also because she can’t afford shipping for the things).
> 
> This goes predictably well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I hope you don’t feel too much empathy for the poor peko-bots, because not all of them are going to survive.

Moona did something that she had done an awful lot recently: she sighed. (1)

“So, let me get this straight: some person over a hundred kilometers away decided that the peko-bots were too hilarious to stay put in only our region and wants to help spread the joy of peko-bots worldwide.”

Pekora nodded.

“I can put her on the phone peko. She says she wants a few for her new circus act. She goes by the name of...Omaru Polka, that was it?”

Moona, Miko, and Botan all immediately turned their heads; that was a familiar name.

Botan blinked, and Moona twitched. Botan wasn’t one to get overly animated about how she felt about anything, but Polka was a fellow 5th gen member - she really wanted to meet up with her.

Moona snapped: “So, wait a minute. You actually found _one of our fellow hololive members,_ and you didn’t think to TELL THE REST OF US ABOUT IT?! Shachou, I swear-”

Miko snapped back, interrupting Moona.

“Not sure if you remember, but Pekora _literally_ does not remember her.”

Moona paused. Pekora shrugged.

“It can’t be helped. Honestly, I think she’s out of her memory, too - she said that she recognizes my name as part of hololive, but admittedly she didn’t really know who I actually am. Which I suppose isn’t much better than how I’m doing. I remember so much of my mortal life, but...ah well, I’ll just call her again.”

Pekora dialed her phone, and then put it on speaker for the group to hear.

“Polka oruka? Ori yo!” (2)

Botan replied first, excited to greet a fellow hololive member.

“La-lion! I’m Shishiro Botan!”

There was an ominous silence.

_Oh no. Please remember me..._

Followed by an awkward laugh; the kind of someone who knows they should say something but doesn’t know _what,_ while still locked in a lighthearted atmosphere. It was Polka’s.

“You know, I actually remember your name. And I can’t shake the feeling I _should_ know you really well. Buuuuuuuuuut I don’t. I think we worked together, I just can’t actually remember what you did. If I recall, you were like, good at games and stuff. Whatcha up to now?”

Botan decided to be blunt in two different respects. The first was answering Polka’s inquiry.

“Well, firstly I’m part of Usada Kensetsu now, though I’m not really doing much for them right at the moment, and secondly: what do you remember of your own life?”

Polka laughed.

“Honestly, most of it is a blur. I recall being a pretty good circus ringleader, and also that I was kind of a madwoman who was also a fairly good singer somehow. I don’t know how those two go together because I’m missing a huge chunk, but I’m making it all work out here. You should come see my new act, I’ve got a little thing going - it’s really something!”

Botan laughed too.

“Honestly, you still sound like the Polka I remember, so it’s all good. Given we’re calling from the office, I should let the others speak, so I won’t tie things up too long.”

Pekora spoke next.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask, you really wanted to be part of spreading the word of the peko-bots. Why was that, given you don’t really know me that well right now.”

You could practically _hear_ Polka’s grin.

“I think they’d be a great help with my little circus act.”

“We still haven’t gotten the performance mode ready. That’s a peko-bot 2.0 feature, but we’re still figuring out how to stop the things from falling off stage if they don’t have the appropriate space, so I’m not sure you really want them right now.”

“That’s perfect! A few falls are all part of the fun around here! I’d love to work out the kinks together with you guys!”

Pekora smiled.

“It’s a deal! I’ll bring you way more than you need, I’ve been looking to make some schematic upgrades anyway.”

Moona sighed.

“Shachou, you understand we haven’t planned this out. We have no way of transporting a large number of peko-bots North.”

Pekora laughed.

“HA↑HA↓HA↑HA↓HA! They can walk! We’ll march ‘em through the mountains. Just bring a few extra in case we make mistakes.”

Moona facepalmed, immediately knowing what the definition of ‘a few extra’ would mean in this case. Pekora did many things, but she did not do anything by half; if she was to go through with this insane plan of her’s, she would actually go all the way.

Botan laughed again.

Polka, overhearing on the other side, laughed through the phone.

Miko, on the other hand, shrugged.

“I’ll watch over the place if you guys all want to go.”

Botan frowned.

“Are you sure? She’s your kouhai too.”

“Yeah, I have a little thing I’m doing on the side, too - so I can focus my efforts on that. It’s a secret project of mine. An...elite project, to say the least.”

“Alright peko. We’ll call the office when we reach Polka.”

* * *

Botan was surprised at how many of the little bots Pekora had ended up making. The army was seemingly endless.

Suddenly, all of the precautions taken to ensure there would be no robot uprising seemed sensible; it was one thing to laugh at the idea of a rogue peko-bot, but quite another to laugh at a group of one hundred of them.

“Just how many of these do you have?”

“Doesn’t matter peko; we’ll do a count when we see Polka.”

The march started northward, towards the mountainous region that Polka had claimed to be on the other side of.

The strangest thing of all of this was a request: Omaru Polka insisted that it was of utmost importance that Pekora record the adventure on video.

* * *

The march up to the more mountainous terrain had gone surprisingly well, due to a tactic utilized by Pekora, by Moona’s suggestion.

By keeping a few peko-bots in front, they could scout out the terrain - thus limiting their destruction to only a small sub-group. So far, they hadn’t lost any.

That was about to change, however, as they approached the mountain. There was a tunnel, and somehow Moona just didn’t feel like they had much luck today. It just seemed like tempting fate to assume nothing would go wrong. Pekora and Moona were comfortably at the back of the line, as Pekora was controlling the peko-bot network remotely, taking input from Moona. That was probably for the best; Moona had to admit that Pekora was scarily competent at this.

The only issue was Pekora’s reckless disregard for the safety of the bots - she seemed to feel as if having a few spare bots just in case meant that they had to get them destroyed just so the numbers lined up. Any time Moona pointed out that they could save all of the peko-bots from pointless destruction, Pekora tended to take the advice at straight value.

Meanwhile, Botan sat far closer to the front. Her job was different: Her primary job for today was to record the march of the peko-bots, but never interfere with their activities.

And now as they approached the tunnel, there was some nervousness. They weren’t sure how this was going to go.

But, amazingly enough, the scout team returned with a very important update: the tunnel was safe for the rest of the horde to follow.

The rest of the peko-bot horde followed, single file behind the horde. Finally convinced that the mine was unlikely to kill them, Pekora and Moona followed.

They were amazed by what was on the other side: a seeming fantasy land, made out of mountains and floating islands, with clouds flying about. The robotic peko-bots looked entirely out of place here. The horde was currently perched high up on an outlook that viewed the area, which led to an even more precarious mountain pass made of old, unstable platforms.

It also made one thing very apparent: it was going to be a wild journey.

Moona thought about the situation, as did Pekora. It was fairly obvious what needed to be done; the current path was not capable of handling the horde. They would need to fix-up and stabilize the path as they went along it, using the peko-bot’s construction abilities to the fullest extent. The demonstration with the bridge was the easy mode; the tutorial was over.

There was a delicious irony to the fact that the peko-bots were designed for construction and used for comedy, and now that somebody _wanted_ them for comedy, they now had to be used for building.

Moona thought about the plan. They’d have to-

“Let’s go peko!”

Pekora sent the first peko-bot forward, marking it as peko-bot 1, and letting the line behind it number off in sequence. The first peko-bot started walking across the old wooden and partially rotted away path, successfully at first.

This didn’t last long; it quickly ran into a plank that was not quite as up to load-bearing capacity as the previous ones. The plank gave way underneath peko-bot #1’s foot, and it went tumbling down the mountain.

“WHY ME PEKOOOOOooooo...”

The sound of metal smashing into rock was heard below.

_Peko-bot #1 update: Critical failure due to terminal velocity impact._

Usada Pekora smiled.

“Successful first test. We now know how far we can go before it falls apart. Let’s get building.”

Peko-bot #2 and #3 lined up, building tools ready, and wooden planks in hand. They started laying down the boards on the side of the mountain, replacing the rotted planks as they moved forward.

This plan worked until they hit a bend in the passage, where peko-bot #2, who was carrying a large wooden plank for the next step, failed to account for geometry properly, and while turning, smacked peko-bot #3 in the face, sending it falling as well.

“COME ON PEKOOOOoooo...”

_Peko-bot #3 update: Critical failure due to terminal velocity impact._

Pekora cringed, while Moona facepalmed. Botan laughed while the recording played on. She was only watching the horde go past; she was not volunteering to fall down a distance of who-knows-how-high.

* * *

They reached the end of the wooden plank passage, with only another seven peko-bots falling down (3). They reached another outlook where the horde could regather.

The group ran into another problem: further along the path was a section that was blocked by what looked like a former landslide.

Pekora ordered peko-bot #11 to the front line. No particular reason, she just felt like messing around a bit. That, and by some miracle peko-bot #2 was alive, so she wanted to see if she could preserve that bot’s luck by not killing it immediately past the part that killed #1 and #3. 

Peko-bots #11 and #12 walked down the path to the rock blocking the way. When they arrived, peko-bot #11 took out a pickaxe.

The pick struck the rock with incredible force; this was a robot designed for breaking through obstacles like this. The rock didn’t stand a chance, cracking after a few hits, and breaking after a few. The shards of the rock were moved off the cliff, as peko-bot #11 kept advancing.

This, too, had a fatal flaw, as that rock turned out to be load-bearing, keeping an even bigger rock from rolling down hill. The mining disturbed the larger rock, which proceeded downhill.

Peko-bot #11 barely had time to visually catch its doom before the rock smashed into the bot.

_CRASH!_

_Peko-bot #11 update: Critical failure due to body frame being crushed._

The rock continued rolling down, taking the portion of the path it landed on with it from the sheer force of the landing. Peko-bot #11’s body was destroyed by the impact of the boulder that had slammed into it; and #12 fell down when the boulder collapsed the platform that it had the misfortune of standing on, sending it downwards.

“OH NO PEKO!”

_Peko-bot #12 update: Critical failure due to terminal velocity impact._

Peko-bot #13 started placing another series of planks across the newly created gap.

Pekora shrugged.

“We still have a few more we can afford to lose.”

* * *

Surprisingly enough, peko-bot #13 hadn’t met its end yet.

Progress was, as Moona’s insistence, slow and steady - slowly rebuilding the old mountain path to be usable, and mining out a few pieces of the mountain to be a little friendlier where needed.

This went well until peko-bot #13 stepped on a portion of the mountain that turned out to not be very stable. Amazingly enough, the ground beneath its feet didn’t collapse all the way down; instead it just left an elevation difference high enough for the poor bot to be stuck, unable to have a hope of getting back up, but still alive, as it had never directly fallen to terminal velocity.

Unfortunately for it, stopping the line behind it hadn’t gone perfectly; peko-bot #14 had been bumped forward by peko-bot #15, causing it to fall.

Peko-bot #14 landed on top of peko-bot #13, the former crushing the latter with the impact.

_CRUNCH_

_Peko-bot #13 update: Critical failure due to body frame being crushed._

Pekora looked down at peko-bot #14. Surprisingly, it had survived the impact; the status update indicated there was no hope of it rejoining the line, but it hadn’t ceased functionality.

“I should just put it out of its misery peko.”

She pressed a few buttons on her interface.

_Peko-bot #14 update: Shutdown sequence initiated. Terminating processes._

“Thank you for using the Mark I peko-bot, a product of Usada Kensetsu.”

Peko-bot #14 ceased functioning.

Peko-bot #15, behind it, simply built over the gap, ignoring her fallen comrade.

Not that it would survive, either, but #15 got a much more mundane death: misplacing its foot and simply tripping off the mountain. Peko-bot #16 would take its place, leading in front of the line of the peko-bots.

* * *

The the surprise of nobody, peko-bot #16 didn’t survive either.

That being said, they’d reached the end of the mountain pass. It would’ve been a relief, had they not found that the very end of the pass that went into a crevice was blocked by a boulder.

This was a lot harder; the boulder refused to budge, and mining it so far proved ineffective. To make it worse, they were past the mountain side, which means they couldn’t push it off the mountain to make space. They would have to remove it entirely.

Pekora, looking at the blocked tunnel, was starting to get annoyed. Patience, not being her strong suit, quickly depleted, and she decided to take a slightly more in-depth approach.

She pressed a few buttons. The leading peko-bots turned around and pulled out hand-held stop signs, separating those in front from the rest of the line by a wide margin.

Peko-bots #20 through #25 stayed in front of the pack. Peko-bot #20 drew out a stick on trinitrotoluene, which goes by the common name of TNT, and placed it next to the blocking obstacle.

Peko-bots #21 through #25 followed suit, while #20 lit the first fuse.

Moona realized there would be a problem instantly.

“Did you give them enough time and space to get them all out of the blast radius before you lit that fuse? Because I’m not sure they can escape in time.”

Pekora laughed.

“HA↑HA↓HA↑HA↓HA! It’s every peko-bot for itself!”

Peko-bot #20, attempting to run away after lighting the fuse, ran right into #21, answering the inquiry immediately: Pekora didn’t. The bots ran into each other, knocking each other over and making it impossible for any of them to escape.

An outcry of several robotic voices followed, as each peko-bot realized their doom in turn.

“Oh no peko!”

“What was I supposed to do peko?!”

“Save me peko!”

“This isn’t fair peko!"

“What have you done peko?!”

“Peko-bot #25 wa warukunai you ne!!” (4)

_BOOM!_

_Peko-bot #20 update: Critical failure due to exploding._

_Peko-bot #21 update: Critical failure due to exploding._

_Peko-bot #22 update: Critical failure due to exploding. (Oh, no.)_

_Peko-bot #23 update: Critical failure due to exploding. (ANOTHER one?)_

_Peko-bot #24 update: Critical failure due to exploding. What did the peko-bots ever do to you?_

_Peko-bot #25 update: You should seriously rethink the life decisions that brought you here._ (5)

The rock, however, was cleared, the sacrifices of those who bravely got exploded in the line of duty promptly laughed at by both Pekora, Botan, and even Moona - this incident was _so_ utterly ridiculous that it was actually kind of funny to watch, especially given Botan’s recording of the incident.

That, however, had cleared the pass, and, in an impressive feat of peko-bot building, there was now a rather amazingly sturdy mountain path reconstructed that now could be used to travel the area.

With the mountainous region done, the peko-bots’ harrowing march was finished. It was time to finally meet Omaru Polka, though not before losing a couple more peko-bots anyway by falling into a river as they approached the town Polka said they would meet them at.

_Peko-bot #31 update: Critical failure due to water damage._

_Peko-bot #32 update: Critical failure due to water damage._

So, yes, while the peko-bot legion hardly qualified as a legion by the time it had reached Omaru Polka, at least it _did_ manage to reach her, with a pretty impressive display of construction ability made along the way.

* * *

Omaru Polka laughed, reviewing Botan’s footage of the bots’ journey.

“R. I. POL, all of the peko-bots who bravely sacrificed their lives for the cause. Honestly, I think I missed this, despite the fact I don’t remember too much of my mortal life. It’s annoying!”

Botan frowned.

“Out of curiosity, how much do you remember of us, of hololive?”

“Well, let’s see...I remember Usada Pekora, of hololive 3rd gen. I remember the name Shishiro Botan, the fearsome lion, and, well, I don’t feel like going on. The problem is, I can’t really say what you actually did in that time. Hell, I remember I was good at singing while not remembering what songs I actually sang back while I was alive.” She grinned. “Apparently you’ve heard of the name of Omaru Polka, so clearly I did something right!”

Pekora joined them.

“Well, I have the opposite problem peko. I remember so much of my life; I still have so many memories from my time at hololive, and yet I can’t remember who I shared those memories with. All the faces, all the names are missing - even my own, when I first arrived here!”

Botan shrugged.

“What do you know of hololive itself, Polka? What do you remember?”

“Supernatural streamer group. Don’t remember too much about it. Hell, my memory’s flaky enough that I could’ve been part of it without remembering.”

Botan broke out into howling laughter, which sent a message that Polka understood.

“Ah. _That’s_ what this is about. I was part of that group, and somehow I don’t remember, POL!”

Botan smiled.

“You know, this wouldn’t be so funny if it were anyone else. You have far too much of a stride to be stopped that easily, though, and I’m glad to re-meet you, even if you don’t remember me. I’m the lion, Shishiro Botan, of hololive 5th gen - the same generation as you.”

Polka smiled at the realization that all of the names she remembered weren’t arbitrary names - behind the arrangement of language were real people, real _friends._

She couldn’t be more excited to meet them.

Dying threw a wrench in Polka’s plans, but apparently things worked out for the better. And, as a result of thinking, Polka smiled - not in the usual way she did, which ranged anywhere from mischievous smile to downright intimidating grinning, but a melancholic, almost wistful kind of smile, of old days past.

She then turned it into a grin as she realized that she had enough publicity pull to help get her friends together. If Pekora had the memories and Polka the names, then the two animal-eared chaos incarnates could work together. It was time to orchestrate a great show for her former friends.

While Polka was too deep in thought to notice, Moona walked in on the conversation.

“Hey, not to interrupt you three, but we kind of need somewhere to put the rest of the peko-bots, as we still have quite a few of them, and you need to figure out where you can put a few dozen of the things into storage. We are _not_ marching them back through the mountains. I’m not sure you know how many we lost the _first_ time we tried that.”

Polka laughed.

“Of course I do! The footage of you guys building the pass is _pol-arious!_ The failures are just as good as the successes, just for different reasons. When I told you guys I was waiting here, I was hoping you’d march through the mountains but I didn’t think you guys would _actually_ do it!”

In response, Moona did what she often found herself doing with Usada Kensetsu: she facepalmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Unless you’re one of those jokers who just considers her entire career one long sigh, in which case technically she’s only sighed once.
> 
> (2) “Polka, you there? I’m here!”
> 
> (3) Look, we’re grading on a curve here, so the fact it was only another seven is actually really impressive.
> 
> (4) “Peko-bot #25 did nothing wrong!”
> 
> (5) Not that a scolding from a program that Pekora herself helped write would do any good, but Moona snuck that in just in case. It was more for external consumers than for Pekora herself. Then again, if you just exploded that many peko-bots in succession/simultaneously, you’re probably also not the kind of person to be stopped by a message telling you to stop.


	3. Back at Home Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miko checks up on her secret project.
> 
> It doesn’t go entirely according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I accidentally a slightly more serious chapter in the middle of the comedy fic

Sakura Miko rode the elevator down to the basement where the underground workshop was located.

She wasn’t nearly as much an engineer as Pekora was; she wasn’t afraid to admit it to anyone except Pekora herself. Even her secret project was mostly guided by strange divine visions more than technical prowess.

She walked forward into the underground area. The first thing was first; make sure everything was still running smoothly; as fun as personal projects were, the secret project had absolutely no hope of being profitable - it was using company profit entirely for personal use, something Moona would never approve of if she found out about it.

Things were much easier back when the entire company only made under-the-table dealings.

The elevator hit the basement floor, and Miko stepped out.

She walked out into the silent workshop, taking a seat at the control room that overlooked the basement area. She had to admit, without Pekora and her robotic crew, the place felt eerie; it was just asking for a jumpscare or two. She flipped a lightswitch.

The lights came on, revealing a currently deactivated group of peko-bots. Those were new, and most likely ready for being sold. There were a few in the back that were also deactivated that bore a few barely-visible markings; those indicated the special peko-bots that were authorized to construct more peko-bots; normally they were disallowed from doing so.

Miko flipped another lightswitch, lighting the other half of the basement area.

More peko-bots, deactivated.

Miko looked around nervously. She wasn’t superstitious; but it did feel like she was in a bad horror plot where these things would suddenly come to life without warning, starting a terrifying and most likely short-lived chase scene. Pekora had, before leaving, shut down the assembly line, and Miko was supposed to get it up and running if she felt like doing so.

_Not today. We’ll take a break for now._

She looked around the control room for the assembly line, and then entered her area of the workshop; a secluded region that Pekora didn’t have access to, mostly because she chose not to enter a door labeled ‘ELITE STORAGE’.

Miko flicked the light switch, viewing her own area of the workshop, to take a good look at her secret project.

She looked up to the staging area, and found something rather disturbing:

Nothing was there. The area was blank.

_Nope I’m not dealing with this GOODBYE-_

Miko backed away, turned towards the elevator, and ran out of the basement.

* * *

After taking a short nap, Sakura Miko walked back into the workshop.

_Okay, that was stupid of me - handle this rationally. Calmly. Be elite!_

She rode the elevator down to the basement area once again, where she heard the sounds of the peko-bot assembly line running.

Checking up on the peko-bot areas, she found that the assembly peko-bots were online, having been turned on without her permission. Thankfully, the normal peko-bots were still deactivated, though there were a few more than the last time she was there. It was exactly as she suspected: somehow the peko-bot assembly line was back up and running.

She’d be a lot happier if she activated it. But she hadn’t. Somehow, it was up and running without her doing anything.

Miko, looking from the control room at the fact that Pekora’s workshop had clearly become haunted and was now somehow running itself, did the only thing she could: panicked, and hit the emergency power shutdown button. It was the first time, as far as she knew, that button had ever been used; Moona was the one who insisted the button existed.

It worked perfectly - the workshop instantly lost power, in addition to the whirring of peko-bots going silent. Moona’s paranoia had gone from silly to completely warranted.

Sakura Miko breathed.

Of course, she’d have to reactivate everything again manually, one step at a time - she had just turned power off to the whole workshop area, and there was no automatic restart for the entire basement. But now that she knew it was haunted, this would be a giant mess if she handled it badly. As a shrine maiden, she’s the closest thing Usada Kensetsu had to an exorcist, which means she would actually be the one to try making it less haunted, somehow.

Pulling a flashlight from a drawer in the control room, she decided to investigate the room, now that the peko-bots were successfully deactivated. Time to see what was up.

As it turns out, not much. There was no evidence of tampering, no evidence that anything had been out of the ordinary, aside from the on-switch having been pressed at some point. It was an entirely normal activation of the peko-bot assembly line, aside from the fact that no one was present.

Or at the very least, no Usada Kensetsu employee was present, as Pekora, Moona, and Botan were all out at the moment.

_Should I call them to tell them what happened…?_

_Nah, I’m not that nervous._

She entered the circuit breaker room, and flipped the switches for each component. The lights were on, the assembly line idle; the peko-bots assigned to the assembly of more peko-bots were still deactivated, having been deactivated remotely - those were tied to the emergency shutdown, just as a precautionary measure when Miko installed the thing at Moona’s insistence.

Sakura Miko decided not to reactivate them just yet. There was still too much about this case she didn’t know. They were turned off, though they still had power.

She went up to each of the currently deactivated assembly line ready peko-bots.

They were completely normal, much like the assembly line itself. Someone had just turned them on - and now they were perfectly normal in their deactivation.

_Do I turn them back on? What do I do?_

Miko decided to set up an alarm, connected with her phone. If the peko-bots came online for any reason, she’d be informed immediately - no more surprises.

* * *

The alarm was tripped. Miko went to the basement as fast as she could. If all of the assembly bots were active, that could only be done from the central control room - the culprit _had_ to be there; it was the only option.

So when she got to the control room and it was empty, she was officially out of options that could be causing the anomaly. The impossible had happened: the bots had somehow reactivated themselves, with no human or humanlike person in the loop to reactivate them.

She went to the control module for the peko-bots, which recorded which ones were active and which ones weren’t, and she manually deactivated each, one at a time, turning it off. She had enough, and wanted no more of these shenanigans. She wanted to fix this once and for all.

She took one of the peko-bots, and moved it to Pekora’s personal workroom. She wasn’t supposed to use this at all, but she was determined to figure out how these things were getting up on their own.

Disassembling the peko-bot to its parts, she found nothing suspicious. There was only one thing she could suspect: somehow, the peko-bot network had a vulnerability that someone had exploited to gain access to the assembly line peko-bots.

But who? That made no sense. Who would even want those?

It was the only option: they’d be hacked, somehow. The only safety precaution would be to hard de-power the peko-bots; and she really didn’t want to do that.

The noise of robotic footsteps from the outside chilled Miko to the bone.

She walked out of the workshop, and found her worst fears confirmed: a group of 20 peko-bots, all marching in perfect unison - the bots didn’t actually have a natural affinity for doing so, which meant that either: they had to be manually controlled or by sheer coincidence their steps aligned with one another. To march in formation naturally was a peko-bot v2.0 feature, but these were the old model doing it - that had to be manually coordinated.

She took a stance. The peko-bots were not combat bots; despite the intimidation factor, they really had no means of being threatening. If they were being manually controlled, then there wasn’t much they could do.

She announced her intent quickly: “Attention hacker: I see your games. Stop at once, or face the wrath of the ELITE MIKO!”

The peko-bots all stopped. They seemed almost disappointed, somehow, as if Miko had just ruined a huge prank.

Which, now that she thought about it, the pieces came together: someone had just exploited a network vulnerability to pull a prank on Pekora. Given the rabbit’s shenanigans back when she was alive, it seemed fairly plausible that one of her friends would pull this sort of thing. It just so happened Pekora wasn’t around, which was rather unfortunate.

Miko laughed.

“Okay, good prank, but I do kind of need to report whatever vulnerability you used to Shachou. This really isn’t something we want to have lying around in the finished product, given that, you know, you _did_ just hijack the peko-bot assembly line remotely. So, um, could I meet you somewhere?”

One of the assembly peko-bots stepped forward.

“Come to the elite storage peko. Oh, and maybe install security cameras on this place. It’s really easy to sneak around; I think you just assumed no one would try.”

Miko frowned, mostly at how right the mysterious voice was.

* * *

Miko walked into the elite storage once again, the dawning realization that if the network was hacked into this badly, there was a non-zero chance her secret project had been taken with it.

_No…_

She checked the stage where it was normally held.

It was still missing.

And then a mysterious figure hugged her from behind; the kind of hug given to a friend that you haven’t seen for a long time.

“Guess who.”

Miko, of course, knew the voice; there was only one member it _could_ belong to.

“Roboco-san! You’re back!”

“Yep. And I found a network vulnerability that lets me directly interface with the peko-bots; I was experimenting to see how many I could control at once. Sorry about, uh, freaking you out there, though you didn’t exactly give me much time to explain, given you panicked and ran out each time.”

Miko cringed. In retrospect, she wasn’t exactly proud of her overreaction.

“Oh yeah, this is clearly Pekora’s place, so, um, where is she?”

“Ah, she’s travelled to Polka’s place. I’ll call.”

* * *

Miko put the phone on speaker.

Pekora picked up.

“Konpeko!”

Roboco responded.

“Hello-bo! Roboco da yo!” (1)

Silence.

“How?! I thought you were a robot!”

Roboco laughed.

“It’s...kind of a long story? My physical body was considered a possession of my master, but my soul...well, it turns out I’m the first artificial soul. The angels didn’t know what to do with me, as I was a soul, but as my physical body was considered a possession of my old master - I don’t know what happened to him - that left me without a body. Miko would be the one who rebuilt my body, until one day, it had reached the state where I could once again inhabit it. So, um, I did.”

Pekora practically had to pick her jaw up off the floor from the other end of the phone.

“This was the ‘personal project’ Miko was working on, wasn’t it?”

Miko smiled.

“Nya-hello! Yes it was! She kind of freaked me out because she just came online with no warning and then used her robot wifi to hijack the peko-bot assembly network without warning!”

“HA↑HA↓HA↑HA↓HA↑HA↓HA! That’s amazing peko! That would’ve gotten me good if I was there at the time.”

Moona joined the conversation on Pekora’s side of the phone.

“Not to interrupt, but maybe we should fix that vulnerability? That’s a serious security issue.”

Roboco laughed nervously.

“I’m not sure if I can build a security system that can keep me out. I’m a _very_ high-spec robot, and Miko entirely replicated those high-specs in the afterlife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Official translation of the verbal tic: “Hello-robo! Roboco here!”
> 
> And now we have Roboco! This was fun to write; she's going to be rather important in the later chapters of the overall in-between story.


	4. Welcome to the Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polka somehow manages to be even worse for the poor peko-bots than Pekora is.
> 
> Roboco and Miko greet another visitor and new partner for Usada Kensetsu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a mess, and yet somehow, here I am, writing it out.

Polka and Pekora were a _frightening_ team, Moona decided.

They were both crazy, but somehow Polka’s circus-tier brainstorming combined with Pekora’s make-believe engineering competence actually working out so far made for a terrifying duo of engineering that Moona couldn’t help but feel was asking for a robot apocalypse, just one that would be really funny instead of horrific.

Still, Moona couldn’t help but be impressed by the fact that Polka and Pekora figured out how to get a bunch of peko-bots to dance in sync with each other, following the lead bot that led the routine. And even more impressively, they managed to not actually lose any of the bots in a dancing accident (1).

On the other hand, Polka was managing to lose bots even less competently than Pekora did; Moona wasn’t quite sure how Polka thought they had any chances of surviving being fired out of a cannon or trying to make large trampoline jumps, both of which had resulted in losing a couple of the bots. Then again, knowing Polka, she may have figured that it was inevitable she’d lose a couple anyway and thus would speedrun the process. It was honestly hard to tell the difference between stupidity and flat-out insanity with regard to the fennec girl.

Unlike Pekora, Polka seemed to plan directly for things to blow up in her face, whereas the rabbit girl usually just had them do that coincidentally, usually in a blast of irony.

Such as the peko-bot that just exploded on stage. Pekora just seemed unimpressed.

“Okay, I think we actually need to fix that bug; it’d be nice if we could avoid losing peko-bots to that.”

Polka was a lot more surprised, while Botan just looked amused at the whole thing.

“Pekora-senpai, why the hell do they have a self-destruct sequence?!”

“I’d say it seemed like a good idea at the time, but honestly that was Miko’s idea! I only added the explosives, Miko added the part where they did that internally!”

That was the team in a nutshell. Moona had to admit, it _was_ pretty funny to watch it all play out.

Still, she was impressed; the level of competence on display between the team was high enough that the v2.0 peko-bot model might be released _very_ shortly.

Moona was terrified, to say the least, because the new model was advanced enough that the capacity for destruction was a lot higher, which was already bad enough, but it would, at that point, be utterly impossible to say they were ever meant for construction purposes at that point (2).

Ah, well, construction bots to versatile general-use bots that would most likely be used for entertainment purposes.

Given her history of joining an idol agency that turned into a bunch of comedic entertainment shenanigans, she shouldn’t be surprised; perhaps turning everything into general comedy was just what it meant to be part of hololive.

_Iofi…_

She was curious where the rest of her hololiveID friends ended up, since they clearly weren’t here.

_Food for thought when we finally move out and start exploring the world._

* * *

Meanwhile, Miko and Roboco were on their own quest, from within the base.

Boredom did strange things to people; while Miko and Roboco had already planned out the schematics for a whole bunch of new functions for the v2.0 peko-bot model, they didn’t want to add them to the actual model without first getting confirmation with the CEO of Usada Kensetsu.

That, and Miko decided she would rather not find out how mad Moona would get if she went and added a laser blaster to the peko-bots without proper approval.

Now, one may ask why a “construction” or even an entertainment robot needs a laser blaster; surprisingly enough, it was actually Roboco’s suggestion, not Miko or Pekora’s. Her argument was simple: the peko-bots were a product of collaboration, and if they already implemented TNT functions that the peko-bots rarely survived using, they might as well keep going. As long as they had some function to avoid harming people, the laser wouldn’t cause any problems.

Still, that meant they had not much to do until the rest of the company got back.

The basement area of the Usada Kensetsu building was tall, but it wasn’t tall enough for a multiple-storey-tall bipedal mech to stand up in.

That meant that Mikochar would have to be constructed in parts and assembled outside, which was a pain.

Indeed, Sakura Miko had never lost her competitive streak with Pekora; and she knew that Pekora had been planning the Pekodam for a long time. With that in mind, she knew it would be the perfect prank if she could get her giant robot constructed before Pekora’s. As long as she kept her project to only her side of the basement, it might take Pekora a while to find out - long enough that it might be too long for the rabbit girl to finish her giant mech.

* * *

Moona was shocked.

“Unbelievable. You actually figured out how to get the peko-bots to work parachutes properly.”

Pekora was ecstatic.

“Can you imagine what we can do with these now? We could deliver them to customers via air-drop properly now! You know, if we figure out how to get our mechas flying.”

Moona sighed. Of _course_ Pekora would then immediately jump to the least practical but most flashy use of a new feature. Still, parachuting the peko-bots was actually a very practical feature; there were many reasons why one would want them to have that feature, and not just because it looked cool. It would likely be a lifesaver for many poor peko-bots. One feature after another, the peko-bots might end up having a fairly decent survival rate.

_BOOM!_

Then again, saving the peko-bots from one method of destruction might instead just open the possibility for them to get destroyed in countless other manners.

Such was the reality of Usada Kensetsu - if they fixed their current problems, they would invent new ones they had to solve (3).

Polka jumped down from the stage.

“Yo, Botan! Can you go to the storage room where we shoved the few dozen leftover peko-bots? I need another twenty or so.”

Moona facepalmed. Polka was an amazing partner, but she couldn’t help but feel that the partnership was going to get them killed somehow.

* * *

The laser-armed peko-bot took its position on the rooftop.

It wasn’t in the public model yet, but Miko and Roboco wanted to be sure the laser blaster worked before attempting to get approval from Pekora on the bot.

As a test, they would fire it straight upwards, which meant they were unlikely to hit anyone.

Miko pressed the button.

The peko-bot fired the blast.

* * *

Meanwhile, from over a kilometer upwards, an unidentified flying object flew overhead.

Of course, the in-between wasn’t really in space in the same way the universe was; while there was open air above the surface world, it wasn’t actually planetary in the same way; it just happened that there was empty space up there over what was actually in reality a flat plain.

Or _mostly_ empty space, as it turned out.

The pilot of the flying shuttle was close; the rise of Usada Kensetsu had interested her greatly. The problem with traveling high in the air is that you couldn’t actually see people very well. Comparatively, the Usada Kensetsu building was a larger target; she could track that position much more easily.

According to the ship's navigation systems, the pilot knew that the ship was directly overhead of the Usada Kensetsu office. She now just needed to find a space to land, preferably in some parking lot where she’d just take up a few extra spaces for the ship (4).

And, due to focusing on that task, she never saw the laser coming.

_BOOM!_

“What was that?!”

The pilot panicked, while watching the onboard computer inform her that the laser was powerful enough to do actual damage to the structural integrity of the ship.

_All personnel, prepare for an emergency landing…_

“Who’s firing lasers up here?!”

* * *

Both Miko and Roboco were taken back by the sheer power of the laser, thankful that they chose to aim upwards.

“Roboco-san, I think you may have overdone the power on that thing!”

“Uh, sorry. I didn’t really think it’d work that well!”

Miko sighed.

“The next time we test something like this, remember to start with the _low-power_ version first! This is why we make sure that nobody’s in range before we fire these things!”

It was at that exact moment that a UFO came falling out of the sky, falling directly downwards.

Miko and Roboco looked at the downward trajectory of said spaceship, then looked at each other. Miko spoke rather nonchalantly given the situation.

“We should run.”

* * *

Miko and Roboco were impressed by the emergency landing; the UFO, while damaged, managed to use some sort of emergency thruster to slow the landing; so it managed to only take out the very top floor of the building, stopping there and leaving the formerly airborne spacecraft at the top where the roof used to be.

Miko and Roboco cringed; but on the other hand, the structural damage by crashing into the Usada Kensetsu building probably cancelled out whatever they would have to pay by lasering the ship in the first place, and because Usada Kensetsu wasn’t very large there wasn’t actually anything valuable stored in the top floor when the ship made contact.

 _One less thing to worry about,_ they supposed.

The duo went up to the formerly airborne spacecraft to see if the pilot was okay.

Roboco turned to Miko.

“So, how much trouble are we going to be in when Moona finds out about this?”

Miko’s face dropped. Given that the Mikodam’s initial construction was still downstairs, she wasn’t sure what she would do when Pekora almost certainly fired them, because they were going to-

“Don’t worry about Moona! I’ve got you covered on that!”

Emerging from the wreckage was **Airani Iofifteen** , more commonly known as ‘Iofi’ by her peers.

“Admittedly not the greatest landing I’ve had, but at least I landed in the right place. Where’s Moona and Pekora?”

Miko was amazed at how casually Iofi was taking things, given her means of transport had just become a fancy pile of metal.

“Ah, they’re out at the moment. We can call them if you want.”

* * *

_Peko-bot #37 update: Critical failure due to water damage._

She heard Pekora shouting.

“Why did you fly that into a lake?! They aren’t waterproof!”

Moona cringed; for once she actually agreed with Pekora.

“Well maybe you should do something about that! Swimming peko-bots would be great!”

Moona paused, as did Pekora and Botan, the last of who was sitting there, mostly looking incredibly amused.

Moona had a simple remark to that: “That’s...actually a good idea. If we figured out parachuting so they could survive aerial dropping, maybe figuring out a way to make them slightly less vulnerable to water would be a good idea. Especially if we’re going to worry about _accidentally flying them into a lake,_ Polka.”

So far, testing for peko-bot flight was not going very well.

There was just something about how clumsy the peko-bots were that made it really hard to control. Thanks to the innovations of Polka and Pekora, they’d amazingly hadn’t actually _lost_ peko-bots in a flying accident yet aside from the one flown into the water.

It was at that point she got a phone call.

She picked up.

“Hello, Moona Hoshinova speaking. Who is this?”

“Oh oh oh! Obisa no Iofi!” (5)

She paused.

“ _IOFI?!_ Where have you _been_ all this time?!”

“Uh, flying around in my UFO? I kind of kept doing it at a really high altitude, but then I found you guys! When do you get back to the office, I’m ready to be hired into the new Usada Kensetsu!”

“Wait, you ride in a UFO. Why don’t you just come up to where we are right now? It’s actually really good if we could borrow your spacecraft for a bit.”

An awkward silence filled the phone line.

“Iofi, I love you, but please be a dear and tell me you _didn’t_ crash your UFO already.”

Iofi cringed. “Oh come on, I don’t wanna _lie,_ but-”

Moona sighed. “Alright, fine, you can stay at the office. At least until we repair whatever damage you did.”

“Oh come on, I didn’t even say that I crashed into the office yet!”

“And are you saying you didn’t?”

“Okay, you got me there, but I have to admit, I’m impressed; I can _feel_ your unimpressed stare over the phone.”

Moona smiled, despite how unimpressed she was with Iofi.

“To be honest, despite everything, I’m happy to have you back, and with between 4 and 7 employees, depending on how you spin it, we’re hardly large enough to actually need the office space, so honestly it’s not _as_ bad as it seems. We’re not gonna force compensation for it aside from making you hang out with us.”

Somehow, Moona could feel Iofi grin from over the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) On one hand, you may wonder how they could lose peko-bots to a dancing accident of all things, but on the other, you really shouldn’t underestimate Pekora’s ability to get them killed.
> 
> (2) This despite the fact that so far Pekora had, if rather carelessly, actually used them for construction purposes, such as the mountain pass they built to reach Polka in the first place.
> 
> (3) It is said the only thing that can stop Usada Kensetsu is the consequences of their own actions.
> 
> (4) While arguably that was asking for basically every single parking ticket in existence, the pilot figured as long as she was quick, it wouldn’t be an issue.
> 
> (5) Official Translation from Can you do the hololive: "Oh! Yes, sir! Iofi, sir!"


End file.
